


The Tune's the Same

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Legally Blonde AU, M/M, Minor Angst, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick scene from a Coliver Legally Blonde!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tune's the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Posted on Tumblr

The elevator dings as the doors open on the ground floor and Connor rushes out.

He only needs to make it across the lobby, across the lobby and down a few blocks to his car. It’s five minutes tops. Maybe he can get there in three if he runs.

Connor flashes back to Sam’s hand creeping up his thigh and the look of disgust on Michaela’s face as she confronted him in the hall. He hitches the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and quickens his step as his chest tightens and his stomach clenches. Maybe he can make it in less than three.

He is almost at the doors, freedom within grasp, when the lobby doors burst open and Laurel, Bonnie, and Oliver walk in.

“Walsh. Where are you rushing off to?” Bonnie asks, her tone more curious than accusatory. “Sam told us to come back here after the dinner. Said he needed all hands on deck tonight for the Stangard case.”

“Yeah, ah—” Connor runs a hand through his hair, desperate to think of a good lie but his mind is racing in a thousand directions. Where is the pretty boy with the quick wit when he needs him? “Frank sent me out. Food run.”

“Okay,” Bonnie says slowly. It’s clear she doesn’t believe him but, thank God, she doesn’t press either. “If it’s Chinese, get me a couple egg rolls.”

“You got it.” Connor gives a mocking salute and, just like he intended, she dismisses him with a turn on her heel. He turns to head out the doors and has a hand on the handle when Oliver’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, Connor. Wait a second.” Oliver hands off a file box to Laurel with a soft thanks and jogs over to Connor. “I’ll walk with you. Been stuck inside all day.”

Connor hesitates a little but buckles under Oliver’s smile. “Okay. Sure.”

Despite it being early May, the wind bites as they exit the building. Oliver turns up the collar of his coat and Connor tugs his suit jacket tighter around him. He wore a light jacket in this morning but, in his haste to get out, he'd left it upstairs.

Oliver lets the silence hang between them for a block, until they are out of sight of the office building, when he pulls up short on the corner.

Even though part of him protests – he can’t break down out here in the open, anyone could see – Connor stops too.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asks, concern in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Connor looks to the ground.

“I mean if Frank really wanted food, he would have had it delivered.” Oliver takes a step closer and reaches out a hand. “Con—”

“Don’t.” Connor crosses his arms over his chest and stumbles back. He can still feel Sam’s hand on his thigh then his forearm, Sam’s breath brushing against his cheek, the look in Sam’s eye as he leaned in. It makes Connor feel dirty and sick. He doesn’t want Oliver touching him right now. He never wants to sully Oliver with any of this.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Oliver takes a step back of his own and holds up both hands in surrender before slipping them in his pockets. “I won’t touch you.”

“No. It’s not—” Connor rubs a hand over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s been way longer than five minutes. He needs to get out of here. “It’s not _you_.”

That raises every hair on the back of Oliver’s neck. “What do you mean it’s not _me_?” Connor doesn’t elaborate and Oliver balls his hands into fists to keep them in his pockets. The burst of rage and fear and concern is unexpected and overwhelming. Someone put that look in Connor’s eye. Someone made Connor afraid. Oliver wants to destroy them. “Con, what did you mean? Did—did something happen with Aiden or—?”

“No.” Connor gives a humorless snort. “As if Aiden—” He catches himself on that, perilously close to telling Oliver what almost happened in that rich man’s office. “You know what, you should ask your boss.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Oliver demands without trying to sound too demanding. He can tell Connor is keeping it together by a slip of spider silk.

Connor just shakes his head and blows out a breath. “You know what? I’m done. I’m going home.” Connor turns to continue walking down the block and Oliver makes to follow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m walking you to your car,” Oliver explains. “Is—is that not okay?”

Connor rolls his eyes. What is with Oliver tonight? “I’m not blowing you in the backseat.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, really?” Connor’s question cuts off Oliver’s explanation. “That isn’t what this is about? I’m not just the office party favor to pass around? I mean, there are you and Sam and—who’s next? Wes? Asher? The founding partners? I mean, those guys are pushing eighty but they make pills for that now and me with my cock sucking lips really shouldn’t have any problem.”

“Connor, I—” Oliver’s mouth is hanging open, gapping like a fish, and he looks like he’s going to be sick. “Did—did Sam really say that?” Connor just stares off into the distance over Oliver’s right shoulder and doesn’t respond. Oliver swallows, feeling repulsed and nauseous and a little scared. What happened while he was at that client dinner? “Do—do you really think that’s what our relationship is?”

Connor closes his eyes in defeat. No, their relationship isn’t like that at all. It’s getting coffee and walking around campus and Oliver listening to him complain for the thousandth time about school and the workload and Aiden. It’s road trips to interview clients and Oliver letting him pick the music, them both singing off-key to Katy Perry songs, Connor napping in the passenger seat as Oliver drives. It’s Oliver always insisting on walking Connor to his car in the lot down the street after late nights at the office, even though Oliver gets to park in the building’s basement parking garage.

Their relationship was a _relationship_. So far removed than anything Sam insinuated in his office that Connor’s disgusted with himself for even implying the two are related.

But he can’t talk about this anymore. It’s too raw, too fresh, and he’s too tired. “I’m done. I’m going home,” Connor repeats.

“Alright.” Oliver hesitates over his question. “Can I—is it alright if I still walk you to your car?”

Connor nods and they set off towards the lot.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” Oliver asks once they’re at Connor’s car.

Connor huffs as he opens the driver’s door and tosses his briefcase in. “Didn’t you hear me before? I’m done. I’m going home.”

“I heard,” Oliver says. “But—I’d still like to call you tomorrow. Maybe we could have lunch or dinner or something?”

“No, Oliver. I’m done.” This nerd wasn’t getting the hint. “ _Done_ done. Done with school, done with this internship, just—done. I’m going home to Michigan.”

“No. You can’t—” Oliver reaches out a hand, remembering at the last moment that he’s not allowed to touch anymore and shoves it back in his pocket. “You can’t just leave.”

“Why not?” Connor demands. “This whole internship is a joke. Sam, all my professors, other students, everyone is just waiting for me to fail. And Aiden, the stupid bastard I did all of this for, is so over our relationship that he’s engaged to a woman. There is nothing for me here. _Nothing_.” He blows out a choked breath. "I reached too high with this. Should have remembered."

“You really believe all that?”

The hurt in Oliver’s voice breaks something in Connor so he fusses with his keys instead of meeting Oliver’s gaze. “I’ve heard it my whole life. Change some words around but the tune’s the same.” He risks a glance up and Oliver’s opening his mouth to contradict. “Listen,” Connor cuts him off. “I gotta go.”

Oliver closes his mouth, the futile argument dying on his lips. “Right. Sure.” He takes a step back and Connor bends to get into the car. “Connor?”

“Hm?” Connor glances up from the driver’s seat, door open and one foot still on the pavement.

“I know it’s none of my business but please don’t leave tonight.” Oliver drags a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s late and you’re keyed up and—just please wait until tomorrow.”

Connor stares up at him, stunned. How, in all that is holy, did he ever mange to find someone this decent? “Okay, Ollie. I’ll wait.”

Oliver nods. “And—if you could text me when you get home?”

Connor doesn’t trust himself to speak so he just nods and closes the door.

As he drives away, Connor glances back in his review mirror; not at all surprised to see Oliver standing on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot, watching him drive away.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com)


End file.
